


catharsis

by silverinerivers



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon Timeline, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Missing Scene, Pining, Relationship Study, in love without saying they're in love, mostly linear timeline taking place through canon, stop breaking me you two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverinerivers/pseuds/silverinerivers
Summary: He will never forget the night they met, a maelstrom out his window, a handprint on his throat, piercing moonlit eyes.He may not be ready to have sex, but he knows what attraction is. Nezumi’s beautiful, independent, a question mark Shion wants to unwrap with his own hands. He’s captivated by the strength of Nezumi’s conviction, how he’s a bag full of secrets waiting to be shaken out, how he says one rule after another and breaks them one by one for Shion.He’s not blind. Nezumi’s a mystery and a walking contradiction and Shion has fallen headfirst, tumbling down.
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36





	catharsis

He will never forget the night they met, a maelstrom out his window, a handprint on his throat, piercing moonlit eyes.

Shion offered his help because he was hurt. He registered the threat to him yes, but it didn’t quite warrant the same immediate attention. The news depicted the boy as a criminal, broadcasted that he was dangerous. His picture flashed with an angry gray gaze and a smirk that looked too old for his age. He was still only a boy, just like Shion, in need of help even if he wasn’t willing to admit it. That’s what comes first, compassion towards another human being.

His name is Nezumi, Shion learned, and he talked as if the world is out to get him, having seemingly lived through an apocalypse and a half. Somehow Shion doesn’t doubt that.

But he was curious. Nezumi was otherworldly, with ashy eyes he’d never seen before, a cheeky attitude and strong through and through. When Shion had been pinned to the bed with a determined, all-too-satisfied sneer, it was clear Nezumi expected a response that wasn’t pure amazement.

He learned back then that Nezumi too is warm, when Nezumi clung onto him, wrapped up in Shion’s clothes like Shion was the first person who was warm too.

Shion does not forget this memory, even though the chances of seeing Nezumi again are slim to none.

He does not regret it even when they strip him of his status, relocates them to a different, lower-class home. For Nezumi, he’d do it all over again.

Nezumi first warns him right before it’s too late.

Then he comes for Shion out of nowhere in the nick of time, just when everything is beginning to make sense for him.

He looks _good._ Shion recognizes this even amid all the chaos, dark midnight hair tied up and adorning that characteristic snark. He’s taller, bolder, and has evidently been watching him. He may hide it with jokes and sarcasm, but Shion knows that connection between them already runs far deeper. The sight of Nezumi alone has revigorated that kinship, whirls him into another world to dip his toes in.

It seems Nezumi feels similarly but is understandably mistrusting of who Shion is, given where he comes from. He stands fierce and grabs Shion by the collar, the energy around them sizzling like an inferno, and Shion refuses to put out the wildfire.

Nezumi talks like he knows everything, angry and disillusioned with the state of the world that Shion has never questioned until then. He talks as if Shion is a burden, but he does everything in his power to take him along.

It feels like falling in a trance. Shion begins to look for the hidden meanings behind Nezumi’s words, compares them versus his actions. Nezumi is physical, lashes out to make a point when he slams Shion against the wall. His heart freezes when he witnesses the frantic fear in Nezumi’s eyes, the moment Shion attempts to bid his goodbye.

“Open your eyes!” Nezumi screams, and Shion feels the tears prickle before falling to the image of Nezumi’s face, the softest look he’s seen to date, almost sacrosanct.

“You threw it away, because I asked you to.” Nezumi says, matter of fact.

Shion nods.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice. There also wasn’t time.”

“If it was that important to you, you would’ve fought, screamed at me like an idiot. That’s the kind of person you are. That was your whole life after all.”

Shion remembers thinking that if he doesn’t, then he can’t escape, he can’t go back.

But he leaves it behind anyway.

“It was. And now it isn’t.”

He kind of relishes in the shock in Nezumi’s eyes at what he proclaims is Shion’s innocence and immaturity. Yes, Shion likes to hope, to believe there is something better out there.

 _You were my miracle._ Nezumi might as well have said to him, when that window opened up a world of newfound possibilities for him in a makeshift storm.

“The first person to teach me that was you.”

That men save men.

They’re both learning to see the world from each other’s lens, but it still remains a battle, to see who can lure the other in, hook, line and sinker, on the verge of drowning.

Shion isn’t naïve, or he doesn’t like to think so. But standing here with Nezumi in a room full of books he’s never held much less read, standing outside the realms of the carefully constructed No. 6, Shion thinks there is a lot he doesn’t know.

So, Shion opens the floodgates, letting the waves fill him to the brim. But he’s not about to be drowned out here; he’s intent on the way out.

There are a lot of things up for debate between the two of them.

This is not one of them.

Nezumi is a marvel, and Shion is inherently biased. That’s an argument that won’t go over well, so Shion keeps it to himself.

Because Nezumi knows how to fend for himself, is taller and stronger and faster than Shion and never lets him forget it. Nezumi keeps his emotions beneath thick skin until it boils over all too furiously. Yet, he manages to keep his history locked under seal with his sarcastic wit and hurried deflections. He works people effortlessly: with his charm, his threats, his knife.

Shion fully knows Nezumi can back up every word he says, whether it is teasing or subterfuge, because Nezumi’s trapped him down already with that. Now, Shion notices all the rest too, sinks further from Nezumi’s agile motions, his daring grin, the shape of his devotion. He’s committed to memory the faint outline of Nezumi’s abs and his sharp hipbone, leading down, down, down. He doesn’t need to take off his clothes for Nezumi to strip him bare with his carefully constructed language, the intensity of his fog-swept stare.

And the other boy had the audacity to say Shion didn’t know anything about sex. He’s thought of Safu as a sister for a long time, but that was never true when it came to Nezumi, not since the first time he looked into the other boy’s misty-gray eyes, remnants of shadows swirling behind them. When he had appeared in front of Shion again, something within Shion’s heart had fluttered hopelessly with thoughts he hadn’t entertained seriously for four years. It had hit him hard, a catharsis cracking, spilling, enveloping him.

He may not be ready to have sex, but he knows what attraction is. Nezumi’s beautiful, independent, a question mark Shion wants to unwrap with his own hands. He’s captivated by the strength of Nezumi’s conviction, how he’s a bag full of secrets waiting to be shaken out, how he says one rule after another and breaks them one by one for Shion.

He’s not blind. Nezumi’s a mystery and a walking contradiction and Shion has fallen headfirst, tumbling down.

When he had kissed that woman in the alley, leaving her a flustered mess, she was not the only one. Shion knows Nezumi knows it, as perceptive as he is.

And when he tells Nezumi he’s amazing, the light flush all over Nezumi’s cheek doesn’t escape Shion’s notice either.

Shion never thought he was the type of person to have a temper.

Maybe Nezumi is his one exception.

Maybe Nezumi has unlocked that in him, an endless beginning.

“Why do you want to know more about me? It isn’t a good thing, for us to get close to each other.” Nezumi mumbles, slamming back down into the bed.

It’s the same conversation, but Shion insists harder this time. Nezumi gives him far less than he takes, and Shion wants to at least grab onto a little bit more.

“I’m drawn to you.” Shion states again, trying to get his point across but failing to find the right words. The feeling blooms on, fiercely, irrevocably. Everyone may think he’s naïve, but there are certain things he keeps close to his chest.

You don’t get into the special course by accident after all.

He knew exactly what he was doing as a child, as bashful and humble as he had to appear, and he knew exactly what he was doing when he chose to hide Nezumi, smiled at him in his childhood bed.

Nezumi may be playing everyone here, including Shion himself, but he also stands up for him. He does so despite the odds, against a puppeteer regime that Shion still hasn’t fully come to terms with.

“Why won’t you tell me more? If you don’t think I understand – make me understand. I don’t want to become your enemy.” Shion says desperately.

“You don’t get it. You were raised in their world, sworn to undying loyalty, and even after being screwed and abducted and nearly killed by them, all you want to do is save them.”

“Because the many don’t deserve to be punished for the mistakes of the few. You don’t have to be one or the other here.”

Nezumi could say a great many things here, push him aside, brush him off.

Instead, Shion thinks he opts for the truth.

“It does for me. This isn’t your fight to be dragged into.”

Shion seethes. He says it like a saving grace that backfires and hits Shion right in the gut.

“But you already have. I’m here, with you. You saved me; I chose you.” He insists, clenching his fist.

It feels a bit futile since he’s well aware that Nezumi always writes him off, like a tightrope strung too tense and burning at both ends, always at conflict with himself and everything Shion chooses to be.

“That was just me repaying a debt. You don’t have to stick around just because of that alone.” Nezumi states, eyes half-lidded, somber.

“You know I can’t go anywhere else, and I don’t want to. And besides, if you really believed that, then you wouldn’t have saved me in the first place.” Shion crosses his arms.

It’s a little over the top, but Nezumi doesn’t fight him.

Nezumi on top of him four years later is different. The weight is headier, the slits of Nezumi’s eyes more disillusioned, and he does have a knife this time.

But one thing has not changed; Shion is not afraid.

Nezumi operates in this or that, black or white, and Shion – Shion wants to have both, break it all down, pave his own way.

If that makes him childish, foolish, then so be it.

He has to try.

Because there are some moments where Nezumi too shows his other side, a thin thread of vulnerability.

When he asked Shion if he regretted that night, Shion didn’t hesitate. But Nezumi did, fuming while Shion remained tender, lost in one of his fondest memories.

“Nothing’s been ruined.” Shion remembers himself saying, because he’d save Nezumi all over again, and he’d want to break through these chains all over again too.

It’s too late, he muses, for Nezumi to even contemplate taking any of it back. Because for Shion, Nezumi’s become a staple, a rule, the person who truly found him and unlocked what was buried beneath the mold No. 6 shaped for him long ago.

So, he kisses Nezumi, the only way he comes up with for expressing how happy he is for meeting him.

Nezumi doesn’t push him away.

That’s something.

It’s not a goodbye, but it is a lie.

And Nezumi reads it for what it is, comes after him, just like Shion suspects he would.

Nezumi clocks him a couple of times. They yell, tumble, and Shion finally gets a chance to clock him back.

Watching Nezumi beat the shit out of someone is different than having it done to him. Seeing it from afar, he realizes that Nezumi’s been going easy on him. This is what it means it seems, when Nezumi gets serious. It’s ill-tempered, cruel, and he gets it’s necessary but –

“I don’t … want to see you hurting others…” Shion murmurs, hearing his own hypocrisy, how he’s doing it to rescue Safu, dirtying his hands for Shion.

Nezumi is a good liar, but Shion suspects it does not come to him easily. How could it, when he knows Nezumi hurts just as easily as any of them, shoulders it all alone.

Nezumi dressed as a girl is in a word, breathtaking.

That was probably the reason why he wasn’t allowed to go watch him perform. He doesn’t mean to stare, because Nezumi is more than his looks. He is a tremendous actor, voice full of emotion, a small figure in a large stage but well worth the spotlight.

The moment their eyes met, Shion swears the world stopped. All he could see was Nezumi with his hair down, eyes soft and wide, red lips glistening beneath the stage lights, his skin milky and unmarred and –

When he collapsed, that train of thought crashed and morphed into survival mode. Shion remembers panicking, digging at his skin for any sign of blackness spreading, the possibility of having that beauty being ripped from him.

And his heart didn’t stop pounding until Nezumi opened his eyes, answered his dumb math questions, got annoyed at him the way Nezumi usually did.

He was still dressed as Ophelia though, lipstick slightly smudged at the corners of his lips and Shion fights hard to resist the urge to kiss that red spot away.

Shion remembers this, and vows to never lose Nezumi.

Their dance comes at a peculiar time.

The thought of No. 6 collapsing to ruins before the spring is not the catalyst Shion envisioned would cause Nezumi to break out into the biggest grin Shion has seen. Reason aside, he tries to concentrate on the bright side: how close he is to Nezumi’s body heat, head close to the other boy’s chest, their height difference apparent but comforting.

Soon after, their physical strength and dance ability becomes apparent too.

Nezumi is so graceful, leading him like an endless waltz. Shion easily follows, just like all the other times.

It makes him feel like he’s always lagging behind, unequal, swept into yet another _thing_ he doesn’t know.

He’s sure Nezumi also doesn’t know everything there is to know, but in this moment, Shion puts that thought of catch up aside. He settles for the closeness of Nezumi’s body next to his, that ever-rare smile, grounding him, keeping him human and just as warm.

“Above all, I’m afraid of losing you.” Shion says, catching the surprise in Nezumi’s gray eyes, shining.

 _Don’t be surprised_ , he thinks, _I’ll say it again and again, even if you pretend to reject me, taunt me, hurt me. I’ll spearhead through it all because –_

_I care for you, I want to know about you, I –_

Shion barely flinches when Nezumi goes from 0 to 100, his hands wrapped around Shion’s throat, hard and unforgiving. Shion can barely breathe, and maybe he is a bit stupid for not feeling afraid, not even when Nezumi snarls at him for his weakness and mistakes, for trusting Nezumi won’t hurt him.

The knife smears a trickle of blood from his neck. Shion registers a sting, but then his mind runs far from it, focuses instead on the scowl of Nezumi’s face. He’s too caught on what makes Nezumi tick, what makes him go feral at the mention of No. 6, how much the very idea of its downfall overtakes all else.

“I’m so glad I met you.”

Because Nezumi taught him there was more to life than the bubble he knew. He unleashed all the emotions Shion was never privy to express out loud, the anger and the sorrow and the grief of having things not go right in their so-called utopia.

It means more to him than Nezumi will ever know. And then Shion learns how much he had given back to Nezumi, and how that also meant more than he’ll ever know.

The sound of Nezumi’s voice in song is unexpected. In a dirty beaten down place with scraps of despair, Nezumi pays it forward for free.

It’s indescribable.

But all beautiful things come to an end, and Nezumi slaps him out of it, keeps him still when all he wants is to run, run from reality.

“…I’m afraid of you… I suppose.”

Shion blinks. The words take their sweet time to absorb into his skin, hearing Nezumi say that while looking slightly off.

_Why does that hurt?_

Nezumi’s human, capable of fear just like him. But Shion’s never been afraid of Nezumi.

Shion bursts through his shell, finds an innate ferocity that scares even himself, so he does not blame Nezumi.

It removes certain complications and adds a few more; Shion doesn’t know how he can ever fix that gap.

And Nezumi’s past puts Shion on the wrong side of history. He’s allowed to be upset over that, more than allowed. It is his absolute right.

Yet Nezumi looks guilty for hurting Shion with his memories that he has finally trusted Shion with – how ironic.

Everything adds up: Nezumi’s resentment, the cruelty of humankind, what No. 6 is capable of – human experimentation, the genocide of a generation.

That rage becomes harder and harder to maintain, a monster unhinged, ready to decimate its cage.

How _dare_ he hurt Nezumi.

That blinding rage is what he’s left with, gun in hand and blood splatters across his shirt, his bare hands.

Nezumi is crying and shaking and it feels almost wrong to comfort him, given he’s the reason that Nezumi’s crying in the first place.

But he does, because he is Shion and it’s Nezumi and there’s never been any other option.

It comes to him after, even as Nezumi tries to justify his actions, of taking a life without blinking an eye, without even remembering the act.

Shion points the gun to his temple, tears in his eyes, contemplative but not remorseful.

“Can I be forgiven?”

Nezumi screams at him, tells him everything sensible and good and cries for him, tries to laugh it off but fails.

Shion can only hold him tight, and hope that they are enough.

They leave Safu behind, and Shion is not strong enough. Nezumi carries him through.

But it hits him later, that perhaps that was Nezumi’s plan all along.

It’s cruel and mistrusting and something that Nezumi could’ve planned for – as much as Shion loves him, he knows Nezumi is capable.

It sounds awful, he knows, but leaving Safu to die – what did they do it all for?

Who benefited from this?

No.

That’s – that’s the dark side of him speaking. The one that is hurt.

Nezumi has never given him a reason to distrust him.

Ever.

And then: he swears it in front of the gods.

“I don’t believe in the people of No. 6. I only believe in this guy.”

Nezumi leaves him, explaining that they’re incompatible, that Nezumi doesn’t know who Shion is.

It is a front, Shion knows, but he breaks regardless.

Because Nezumi is the only person who knows who Shion is.

“A world without you means nothing to me. Nothing, Nezumi. There isn’t any meaning at all.” He sobs.

Because Nezumi showed him the world, put himself on the line so Shion could help recreate it.

It is Nezumi initiates this one, and damn, he _is_ good.

“Is this a goodbye kiss?” Shion murmurs, not daring to hope.

Nezumi grins, dazzling.

“It was a promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh I love these two so much and just had to write this. Fun fact, I actually wrote half of it while watching the anime and the other half while reading the manga. 
> 
> Leave some love if you liked it & thanks for reading!
> 
> You can catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/silverinerivers) & read my other No. 6 fics [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverinerivers/works?fandom_id=479394)


End file.
